The flask bled into ruby.
Timer hit zero.
On the monitor—perfect curve.
Numbers clean. Sharp. Unforgiving.
Luca stripped the gloves.
"Done."
Something in the air shifted.
Cold light.
Metal.
Chemicals.
Heavier now.
Elena dropped her goggles onto the bench.
Hair stuck to her forehead, silver in the light.
"Prototype Two."
Her mouth tilted.
Not happy—just… less thirsty.
Luca pulled a whiskey bottle from the drawer.
Set it down between them.
"Tonight. Here."
Two beakers.
Amber down the glass.
The smell cut through steel and solvent.
She raised hers.
"Like what we had in college."
"You were softer then."
Low.
Almost amused.
They closed the gap.
A short laugh.
Unsaid things in the space between.
Her eyes dipped.
Came back up.
His hand found her waist.
Firm. Certain.
Breath caught.
He leaned in.
First, just breath—
whiskey, perfume, chemicals.
She didn't move.
The kiss brushed.
Tested.
His hand tightened.
Her lips parted.
Breath mixed.
Tongues touched. Then tangled.
Her palm slid on the cold bench—
a small scrape of skin on metal.
He gripped harder.
She caught his shirtfront.
Cloth pulled tight.
The sound of lips, sharp in the quiet.
His hand in her hair.
Warm against her scalp.
Her head tipped.
His mouth found her neck.
Heat pooled.
Her grip on the bench bit deep.
Breath unsteady—
Click.
Door handle turned.
Luca looked over.
A figure in the hall light.
Bianca.
Her eyes locked on them.
Mouth stiff.
The envelope in her hand—
tight, then loose.
It fell.
Papers whispered across the floor.
She didn't move closer.
Her stare stayed on him.
Cold. Long.
Then she turned.
Walked into dark.
The door closed.
Low. Final.
Luca heard it.
Still, he looked back at Elena.
But the shadow stayed.
Like rain in the air.